


WAR IS HECK

by startrek22



Series: SMASH CAMP [8]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types, Splatoon, Super Mario & Related Fandoms, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrek22/pseuds/startrek22
Summary: What starts off as a casual divide turns into all-out toy war. Brooke’s got to figure it out, before someone gets hurt for real.
Series: SMASH CAMP [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779538
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. THE SPARK

**Author's Note:**

> At long last, after 6 months, the actual first official ‘episode’ of Smash Camp! I’m terribly sorry for the wait, I had all sorts of busy stuff and other ideas and creative blocks and such. But Hey, it’s out!

It was a rainy day, and the world outside the Smash Mansion was smothered under a blanket of dark clouds. In the labyrinthine hallways, the Junior Smashers, young campers and fighters, occupied themselves in many of the same ways their predecessors had 20 years before.

The dining hall had a variety of tables in different sizes, dozens of different chairs ranging in style, and large windows that, at the moment, were smothered in rain. It shared space with the kitchen, a large area with all the tools and devices one would need to whip up any food they could think of. 

Opening the massive, magnet-covered doors to the fridge, a tawny-skinned girl in a yellow sports outfit gazed deep into its contents. The fridge was funny, in that it  much larger on the inside than on the out - miles upon miles of food, any kind one could want. 

Kiwi was looking for a slice or two of pizza - with her favorite toppings. Reaching in, she somehow found what she was looking for in the deep reaches of the appliance.

To the side, a blue bird-boy was mixing himself a smoothie. Looking up, he casually acknowledged the girl for a moment, then turned back down.

Then, he did a double-take.

“Kiwi, is that...  _ pineapple, _ on your pizza?”

“Yeah!” She responded perkily, not thinking twice about it. “You should try it - it’s super sweet, so it goes well with the salty ham and cheese.”

Finn set his glass down on the granite countertop. “That’s.. that’s  _ terrible _ _._ The pineapple’s way too juicy - it throws off the whole thing, and it makes a mess!”

“It doesn’t make a mess if you know how to hold a slice of pizza. Maybe it’s a bird thing..”

“It’s  NOT a bird thing!” The pilot looked out to the tables, where several other youngsters sat scattered about. “Marcus, what do you think?”

A strong young man, pale-skinned and dressed in antique clothing, looked up from a book he was reading. “What are you asking?”

“Pineapple on pizza - does it work?”

Marcus raised a finger to his chin, pondering the question. “Perhaps the unique taste of the pineapple may  add to the dish, instead of taking away from it.”

“See?” Kiwi was quite satisfied with the boy’s answer. Finn just shook his head.

Overhearing the debate, a dragon in pajamas straightened his back out. “Wait,  _ No_ _!”_ He spoke with a tinge of disgust. “The pineapple would screw up the texture of the pizza. It’d make it all slimy..”

  
“ _ Thank you_, Bowie!” The Cornerian smirked, happy that at least one person here had some sense.

  
The princess stared flatly. “Well, if you’re going to be like that...” 

Plunging her whole arm into the fridge, Kiwi pulled out an entire pineapple. Taking up a knife, she began trimming off the exterior.

The falcon’s eyes narrowed, as his jaw dropped. “You _ wouldn’t.” _

“Oh,  _ wouldn’t _ I?” With a devilish grin, she sliced the fruit up. Finn shook his head, while Bowie bit his lower lip, and Marcus raised an eyebrow. Gradually, the others in the hall noticed what was going on. 

Soon enough, an entire pineapple’s worth of rinds was scattered over the whole pie. The room’s occupants turned their attention to the table, seeming to filter into two groups on opposite ends of the counter as they wandered over. Savoring the anticipation she’d built up, Kiwi licked her teeth, and took a great bite out of a sweet slice.

Some gazed on in awe at the spectacle; others recoiled in disgust. The two parties scrutinized each other; how the other could hold that opinion, they didn’t know. They just knew that the opposite party was wrong, and they were right.

Finn winced for a moment, then leaned over the counter, all the muscles in his face relaxing as he stared down his enemy. 

“This means  _ war._”

With that, the audience slowly trickled out of the cafeteria, as if they had some urgent business to attend to. Something had come over the entire group; determination, a single objective in mind.

_ Win this fight. _


	2. THE CROSSING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke catches wind of strange goings-on.

As the warm-brown skinned young girl in casual wear walked down the mansion hallway the walls lined with ornate wood carvings and fine paintings, she noticed something felt... off.

The place was silent, absolutely still, and she hadn’t seen anyone. With the amount of people running around in the house, not bumping into someone was unlikely. To add to that, there were random piles of stuff scattered about. Little stacks of pillows and bean bags stood like rocks, with buckets of foam darts carefully spaced about.  The younger kids must’ve been playing with some toys and forgotten to clean up, Brooke figured. Whatever - hopefully, they’d learn to clean up after themselves. If not, the place might clean up for them - it was  weird,  here.

Rounding the corner, the girl came to a stop at a new, unusual sight. There was an intersection of two halls here, and in the crossing, a miniature fort had been assembled. Strings of yarn hung about like wire, and a saggy fort stood leaning in on itself, proudly flying a strange emblem. It showed a pizza, with a slice taken out. 

She paused here, and ran her fingers alongside the strings of ‘barbed’ yarn. While she studied it, a stout figure emerged out of the hut. Pointy-eared with fiery red hair, he stood there in a plastic helmet, warily looking on as he clutched a dart gun.

Brooke looked over. “Jeez.. nice fort you’ve got set up here, Shain.”

The Hylian stood looking at her, stone-faced. “What’s your business passing through here, ma’am?”

_ Ma’am? _ “I’m, uh.. going to get snacks.”

The boy looked her up and down, noting every detail of her appearance. It was like he’d never seen her before. “This is a secure checkpoint. I’m going to have to ask you to answer some questions, fill out a form. Then, you can head right through.”

Brooke stood there, looked around, and chuckled. “Wow, you’re really getting into this, huh?”  
  
Shain just kept staring, his finger near the trigger. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he straightened out like a frightened cat. There was a distinct sound from somewhere in the hall; clicking springs, plastic rubbing against plastic.

Then, the bullets began to fly.

They bounced softly off of the pillows, and Brooke, but the soldier dropped to his stomach in a panic. “IT’S AN AMBUSH!”, he cried; “TAKE COVER!”  The sound of pumping god more intense, as the projectiles flew through the air. The boxer was slightly annoyed by them, but it didn’t hurt, or anything. 

The same could  not be said, however, for Shain. As the firing died down and the bullets impacted him, he’d fallen to the ground in a daze, letting out a heavy gasp. Brooke looked around her, then crouched down next to him.

“.. Shain?”

He’d gone fully limp, and his eyes were glazed over. There was no response to touch; his tongue was dangling out of the corner of his mouth, like a real corpse.

“You... you good, Shain?”

He was  _ really _ getting into this.

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE WE CAN SEE ‘EM!”

Turning her head around, Brooke rose up to face the two girls in “armor” approaching her. rising up. One was a grey-furred wolf in a sleek jumpsuit, the other a human with a set of red orbs hanging on her belt. Their grips were tight on their battery-powered blasters, fingers hovering right on the triggers. They moved like machines. 

“Sabrina? Elaine? Are you guys in on this, too-”

“HANDS UP!  _ NOW!_”  


Completely dumbstruck, the fighter slowly blinked, looking them up-and-down. “I’m just gonna stay out of this.” She turned around, and started walking away with her arms raised.

In a rush, the two of them were on top of her, forcing a pillowcase over her head.

When she managed to shake the pillowcase off, she was secured in some kind of blanket-walled cell, fairy lamps hanging like fluorescent lights. Her hands were tied behind her back with a tight ribbon, which also bound her to the cushy folding chair. It would literally take 5 seconds for her to break out; then, she could just push through the blanket-wall and go about her day.

But.. somehow, deep down, Brooke was intrigued by this. It certainly wasn’t what she was expecting to happen today; she wanted to ride it for a bit, see where it was going.

It was a wait of about 10 minutes for something to happen. The lights flickered once or twice; besides that, nothing, save distant noises of intense toy-war.  Eventually, a round purple figure about her height stepped through the doorway. She was a purple hedgehog, and a disgusted sneer stretched across her face. She studied her prisoner with contempt. Walking over, she wordlessly slammed a gloved hand on the table. The interrogator looked right into her eyes.

“What do you know?”

“.. About what?”

“Don’t give me mouth, you plain-pied PARASITE!” The interrogator leaned over the table, slapping Brooke so fast she couldn’t see it.

“OW! Brisk, what the-”

“Tell us what you know... or, we’ll MAKE you.”

Still reeling from the slap, the girl just started talking. “I.. don’t know anything. I was just walking through the pillow fort, and Sabrina and Elaine showed up and.. apparently, brought me here.”

Brisk hoisted a suitcase up onto the table, clicking open the heavy locks. She scrutinized the items inside heavily, picking up one or two of them to test their weight. “So... you just  _ happened _ to be passing through that checkpoint? One of the closest enemy positions to the kitchen - the very HEART of this battlefield? An awfully large coincidence.”

She leaned down to Brooke’s level, her eyes cold. “And, you think you can just  _ bluff _ your way out of here.”

From under the table, the hedgehog produced some kind of toy hammer. She held the blunt ends in her hand, looking it over as if it was an actual instrument of torture. She turned over, and slammed it on the table - making a high-pitched ‘squeak!’.

Brooke tried to hold back a snort. This seemed to enrage Brisk further, as she held the hammer high.

  
“Sergeant Hedgehog! That will be  enough.”

In the doorway stood a slender, blue-haired boy, wearing a baggy tunic and cape. At his word, the interrogator shrunk back, moving out of the room while keeping her eyes on the prisoner.  Prince Azaelus of Altea;thank God, Brooke thought. Though he could be a killjoy sometimes, he was one of the smartest kids in the mansion. There was no way he’d be in on something like this.  Right?

  
  
In measured steps, he marched to the table, affixed like a marble statue. As he looked down, he sighed. “I apologize for the crude behavior of my subordinate. But, I am sure you understand the severity of our situation.”  
  
Brooke nodded, her face still warm from the slap. “Uh-huh. Totally.”  
  
”From what we’ve gathered, you appear to be an outside party in this conflict. Is this true? Do you have no ties to the O.P.F.?”

“Nope. I don’t even know what it stands for.”  
  
“This is.. an interesting development.” Azaelus put his finger along his chin. “It seems that the Original Pizza Federation’s propaganda has not reached as far as we previously thought.”  
  


Wait, the Original...  Pizza... 

_ What? _

“I... Azaelus, is this about  _pizza_?”

The prince’s lips tightened. “It is not ‘about pizza’. It has become much, much greater than that, Ms. Maceira. No matter what the origin may have been, we now find ourselves embroiled in a battle for our own independence - our right to assert ourselves, our sovereignty in this world, culinary or otherwise. In the end, we will affirm our beliefs, and sweep away those who would try to eradicate us from this world. We shall  _prevail_.”

Brooke didn’t know whether to burst out laughing, applaud the speech, or scream for help. 

He continued. “As I understand it, you have remained, up to this point, a neutral party in the conflict. Our intelligence does not suggest your interference. Therefore, we shall let you go.”  
  
Azaelus’s face grew cold, an intense, tranquil fury. “ But , if any evidence should be found to the contrary... rest assured, your end will be swift.”  
  


  
Minutes later, Brooke was outside of the fort, in a no-man’s-land of foam caltrops and barbed yarn piles. The sound of firecrackers and shifting pillows seemed to echo down the hall, now; it was getting a little foggy.

She looked out over the scene, dumbstruck.

“... What the actual _f-_ “


	3. THE TRENCHES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Inkling fights for his life, in the midst of war.

Foot by foot, inch by inch, the private crawled along the muddy ground, careful to leave no part of himself above the trench’s edge.

This was the East Kitchen Front. Down this valley laid another trench, and in between those was the passage to the Fridge. With the securing of the food supply, the war would be theirs in hours.  But, they had been here for days. Weeks, maybe? He’d lost count long ago. Locked in a stalemate, split by a zone of death, of landmines and wire that grabbed at legs like thorns and swallowed men whole. 

Loading up his rifle with quivering hands, Lamarr adjusted his helmet. Slowly, he peeked out over the edge, gazing across the empty wastes. 

_PLONK!_

The inkling dived back down, as a bullet splintered the rock behind him. 

A sniper. He’d have to keep his head down, and figure out their nesting spot. Slipping his helmet off, Lamarr gently rose it up, above the canopy.

_ PLONK! _

The shots were coming from... west-northwest. They’d have to be in one of the side shelters, and those were accessible by going through... the communications tunnel. But, there was a machine gunner above there. He’d have to distract him. As he snuck through the maze of trenches, he fumbled for a small packet on his belt. 

Gas would take the gunner out quick. It was dirty, horrific, inhumane, but it was either him or them. Pausing, he readied the grenade, then tossed it into the top of the concrete bunker. 

A stink-bomb flew across the laundry room, landing in a nest of pillows.

In a couple of moments, gasps and hacking coughs echoed from the shelter. A deathly shadow flung its upper half out the window, going limp and leaning over like a rag doll. Keeping his eyes off the terrible sight, Lamarr pressed onwards. Then, he stumbled.

He’d hit a tripwire.  _ Three, two, one. _

Scrambling to his feet, the squid dived for cover, as an explosive ruptured metal scraps in every direction. Something caught him in his lower leg, forcing a cry of pain from his mouth.

That didn’t matter now, though. The sniper was in this room, looking over that lifeless vale from the other side of the entrance. Gritting his teeth, he readied himself.  Pushing open the door, he scanned with his side-arm. There was no one there; he put it away. 

A desperate roar to his left alerted him just enough to lean back, avoiding a knife that nearly sliced off his tentacle-like hair. Leaping to his side, he tackled his opponent, punching through a wooden barrier into the mud. The sniper took the roll well, managing to land on top of him. It was an ugly, filthy wrestle, as Lamarr struggled to push back the blade aimed at his chest.

Kicking up, the recruit pushed his enemy back, staggering against a wall as he pushed himself up. The rain fell harder; The opponent shook their head, seized their knife up, and charged.

Not fast enough, though, to match Lamarr’s hip-draw.

As the bullet hit them in the gut, the momentum kept them staggering forwards, surging on to the soldier. Gasping for air, sweating against the cool rain, fighting to ignore the wound in his leg, Lamarr found the strength to heave his rival on to the ground. The blood mixed with the runoff, as the drizzle cleaned the body.

Sitting down, the inkling pulled his legs to his buddy. He fumbled, reaching for a bandage to pull around his limb. As he tied it off, he paused for a moment. 

_ No. It couldn’t be. _

He pushed the body over on to its back, pulling back the helmet and the matted hair.

It was Alyx. Mother of pearl, it was Alyx.  His best friend.

Neptune, damn it all.  
  


“Lamarr..”  
  
Teary-eyed, the inkling gazed up at his approacher. She seemed to be a civilian, of some sort.

“I see you’re having a moment, but.. can I ask you some things?”  
  
Trails of tears shone bright against his dark cheeks. “.. You can’t give me one darn moment? To mourn my FRIEND?”  
  
The girl nodded, looking over at Alyx. They were sticking their tongue out, flung dramatically on to the carpet.“Right, I’m sorry..”  
  
They really were going all-out with this. It was like everyone involved thought they were actually dead - though, she’d seen one or two of them get up from their stupor, and head back to the trenches. It’d be funny, if it wasn’t so serious - treated with such  reverence .

As she stood there, Lamarr was carefully laying pillows over his buddy, planting a flattened flower made of pipe-cleaners on top. 

Lamarr propped his gun up against the trench wall, fumbling in his pocket. Brooke squatted next to him, feeling the strength of the surrounding defenses.  The soldier held out a packet of candy cigarettes, of which the boxer picked one. As she clamped it between her teeth, the whistles of passing dart-rockets and bombs zipped through the air, above the blanket canopy.

“I’m looking for information on the source. Where all these weapons are coming from - who’s shipping them in.”  
  
The private plucked his cigarette out, for a moment, then put it back in. “All I know is, their name’s ‘Big Dog’.” Their stronghold’s somewhere on the western edge of the front.”

The outsider nodded. “Thank you.” Looking up, she figured it’d be quicker to just cut through the so-called ‘no man’s land’. But, as she stepped up, a dart just grazed her shoulder, as Lamarr yanked her back down in a panic.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed!?” He looked around, then leaned in. “There’s a passageway near the fort’s infirmary. It should get you there.”

Brooke nodded, and headed off, steadily marching forwards. She didn’t look back, as she heard some kind of dart-bomb set off, and the dying gasps of the squid-kid she was just talking to.

Stooped over slightly as she shuffled down the narrow alley, the boxer reviewed her situation. She’d just passed by the infirmary (where, to mild amusement, she’d seen Bowie performing emergency surgery with a toy kit), and now she was halfway to the hideout. It might not have been obvious to everyone else, but ‘Big Dog’ was, quite possibly, one of the worst codenames they could’ve taken. There weren’t a lot of dogs around the Mansion, especially ones capable of organizing supply chains. 

Suddenly, she paused, and noticed the odd squelching sound her sneakers were making. She looked down, and, to her shock, saw a thick layer of mud on the once-velvety ground. 

The walls were bare dirt and wooden panels, with a sagging canvas roof that barely held back the pouring rain. A missile shot through the air, landing with a massive explosion that knocked her to her feet and rung in her ears. A scream of genuine pain echoed out.

_ It was getting to her. _

Quickly, the girl sprinted off, stumbling in the mud as it stained her legs. 


	4. THE SOURCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke locates the origin of the fighting.

“I’m friends with an old businessman, back on my island.”  


  
The dog chewed on a worn cigar, his back turned to the ragged figure who had pulled open the warehouse door. 

“He’s taught me a great many things, over the years. One of the first things he taught to me was the concept of.. ‘supply and demand’. A conflict, such as the one we find ourselves embroiled in, leads people to seek out armaments, for defense or... other purposes. They’ll gladly exchange whatever they have for such items. So, if someone were to have several industrial-size containers worth of toy munitions...”

He turned around, his ears swaying a bit. “They could get anything they wanted.”

He blew a large pink bubble from his mouth, nearly the size of his head.

“Like this bubblegum stick, that looks like a cigar!”

“Adrian, they’re tearing each other apart over this.” Brooke walked closer. “It’s getting too intense. Why would you encourage this?”

“Like I said, they give me whatever I want. Snacks, gossip, even actual  _ money _ _!_ ”

“Well, what about Eric and Jesse? What are they getting out of it?”

Adrian turned over to a Mii in an orange sweater and a distinctly cubic young girl, who were busy unloading some boxes. “I think they just find this whole situation really funny. How seriously some people are taking it.”

Looking over his shoulder, the two nodded, silently waved, and went back to their task.

This caused Brooke to pause for a moment. That was the core issue - everyone  was taking this seriously. Even her. It was like they were really fighting for their lives. But, what made these three immune?

“.. Eric, Jesse, have you tried pineapples on pizza?”

Eric set down his box, looked over, and shook his head. Jesse shook hers, but kept picking up massive crates in one hand.

“... What do you think of it?”

The Mii’s mouth seemed to move slightly out-of-sync with his words. “They hurt my stomach. And they don’t really have it, where Jesse’s from.”

“Well, what about you?”

Adrian shrugged. “I’m indifferent.”  


_Wait_. The boxer ran her hands through her thick hair.

_ The pizza. What was in the pizza? _

A little-known fact about the Smash Mansion is that, when the central fridge is re-stocked, some of the fresher ingredients are brought right from the massive gardens about the building. Acres and acres of delectable foods, anything that comes from the earth, are right outside the door.

Coincidentally, a variety of strange creatures also roam this open land, collectively known as ‘Pokemon’. 

As Brooke walked between the plentiful bushels, she considered the idea that something might have been messing with the plants. Anything put into the plants would go into the food, and anyone who ate the food.. well, they’d go nuts.

With each passing step, the awful worry in her gut grew heavier. The anxiety ate at her. What if this never stopped? What if it got to her, sweeping her up, and they just kept on fighting? How long would it last? Weeks? Years? Small tears started running from her eyes, and she stopped to clutch her head in her hands. She could’ve done something to stop this, but now... well, it might be too late. 

The endless rabbit-hole of guilt was split by a squeaky sort of sob, coming from a clearing near the tomato bushes. The girl wiped her eyes, and rounded the corner, taking deep breaths as she strode.

Square in the middle of the opening, curled on the grass, was a small trembling creature. Its long, dark ears drooped over its face, as it sobbed and rocked itself back and forth. It was covered in scratches, blue and black skin and off-white spikes on its body.

It was.. one of the Pokemon. Brooke didn’t know anything about Pokemon - they were like animals, but smarter, and they could do some crazy things. Chase and Elaine were the two who knew the most about them.. but they were out fighting.  As she approached it, the thumping of her heart in her head got louder and louder, and the urge to drop and cry grew louder. It was as if the closer she got to it, the more anxious she got.. and the more anxious  _ it _ got.

Kneeling down next to it, she remembered something Chase had mentioned about the things Pokemon could do. Some of them were psychics, she recalled; they could mess with people’s emotions or thoughts, read minds, help them fall asleep. Maybe the little thing was related to it. It was like some kind of... amplifier. Took in your emotions, and put them back out stronger. 

That’s why she couldn’t think straight. That’s why an argument over pizza toppings had turned into all-out warfare.  It didn’t know any better; it was just a baby. 

As she calmed herself, it seemed to quiet, as well. 

The twins had given all the campers some basic tips on handling wild Pokemon, and Brooke reviewed them as she reached out her hand. Gently, she moved her fingers along the creature’s back. It tensed up and shuddered, taking in a sharp breath. But, with a few more strokes, its breathing slowed, and it relaxed. She sat there for some time, just patting it and breathing. As it grew calm, she could feel her own emotions settling. 

Soon, it began to doze, its eyes half-open. She scooped it up, and held it like a baby doll. It looked like a little blue dog. 

It was hungry, she could tell. Just needed some food, and then it would be alright. 

The calm was interrupted by the patter of small, frantic footsteps.

“ Brooke! Brooke, I’ve made a  _ terrible  _ mistake!” Adrian was rushing over.  
  
She turned around, raising an eyebrow as she held the monster. “Oh, so  _ now  _ you’re owning up to it?”

“No, no, I  mean it. I don’t need any of this stuff - I found out where you can buy the bubblegum cigars, directly. But, it’s too late...”

“What? What do you mean?”   
  


“You know how, when everyone gets hit, they act like they’re really hurt? They play dead for an hour or two, then get back up and keep fighting?”

Brooke nodded.

“I checked over the sales logs. Both sides have gotten premium-grade NORF Nukes. If they think they’re dead after getting hit with a dart,  _ what will a nuke do!?” _

.. Oh,  _ crap. _

Holding the blue creature tight against her chest, the girl sped off, with the dog dashing hurriedly behind. 


	5. CODE RED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The climax of the Great Pizza War draws near.

“What are we gonna do?!”  
  


As the two kids rushed down the trench, bombs erupting around them, the Pokemon held by Brooke seemed to get more and more upset. The more upset it became, the angrier everyone else got, and the more the danger increased. 

“We need to calm him down! Do you remember what Chase and Elaine said?”  
  
”Uh.. Feeding and cleaning! Try something with a lot of flavor!” Just then, Adrian tripped on something. He looked down in horror at the thin metal wire, leading off to some hidden fuse. Looking up, his face went pale, as Brooke looked back.

_ “GO!” _

Brooke sprinted off, as the whole tunnel began collapsing in. It was right on her heels; if she tripped, she’d be buried. As she hit the exit of the tunnel, the concussive force of air pushing out of the way knocked her to her feet. She held the creature tightly to her chest.  


The air was filled with a cold, misty fog; nothing could be seen beyond a few dozen feet. Shrapnel and barbed wire stuck about, jotting out of the earth in every direction; just laying there on her knees, she was submerged in several inches of muck. 50 feet up the hill, there stood the refrigerator, colorful magnets clinging to its surface.

This was it. Brooke lifted the Pokemon on to her back, and, inch by inch, crawled up the hill. She had to plunge her arms deep into the mud to get a solid grip; every foot, she dug in her feet to keep from sliding all the way down. Artillery rained about her, ringing in her ears and flashing in the corners of her eyes. Somewhere in the distance, sirens began to wail. 

With a slippery hand, she reached up and grabbed the door handle. She just needed whatever was there.

Slices of pineapple pizza spilled out onto her.  _ Whatever_ _._ She rolled around on to her behind, and planted herself up against the fridge, holding the baby in her lap. Gently, it felt forward, picking up a warm slice and nibbling on it. She helped it guide the food into its mouth. 

  
He seemed to like it. 

Sighing, she looked out over the ruined countryside. As she closed her eyes, the sirens faded out, but the blood kept pumping in her ears. Gradually, she opened them again.

She was in the Mansion kitchen. There were foam darts and pillows and yarn all over the place. Looking down, she was covered in acrylic paint and feathers. On her criss-crossed legs sat the Pokemon, happily eating its meal.

“So, the Riolu caused all of this?”

It was a couple of hours after the Great Pineapple Pizza War. Over the course of 12 hours, a total of 0 casualties had been inflicted, forever not-scarring those who witnessed it firsthand. Kids in football gear and bucket-helmets dug their way out of mountains of pillows, gradually filing in to the dining area. Around one of the tables sat Chase, Elaine, and Brooke - along with her new partner.

Elaine flipped through her Pokedex. “They’re known to emit intense aura waves as they adolesce.. that means this one must be _really_ powerful, from how intense it was!”

Brooke’s Riolu sat in the chair next to her, chowing down on some berries and pineapple pizza. Brooke hadn’t thought about raising a pet before - especially one that was so.. different. But, she liked the challenge. And, from what she’d heard, Pokemon made good friends.

  
Nearby, a small confederation finished the official peace treaty between the Original Pizza Federation and National Pineapple Front. Pizza of any kind would be tolerated; such casual non-bloodshed would no longer taint the halls of the Smash Mansion.  Pen had just been put to paper, when Frank and Aerya pushed their way through the knee-high defenses. The young adults looked around in shock. They’d left for  _ one day  _ to go hiking in the wilderness around the Mansion, and, apparently, a full war had occurred.  The Hylian woman looked over the delegation table. “.. What happened here?”

Kiwi and Finn looked up, solemnly. “Toy-war has changed, Frank.”

“Yeah.. it’s not about pizza toppings, or biting ice cream versus licking it, or peeling chicken nuggets. It’s an endless series of pretend-conflicts. A well-oiled machine.”  
  


The human man looked around. “.. That sounds familiar, somehow. Also, what do you mean ‘licking ice cream’?”  
  
The wide-eyed adventurer turned to face her co-organizer. “Wait, Frank.. do you  _ bite _ your ice cream?”  
  
”It’s the most efficient way of eating it! That is, if you don’t have  _ weak teeth_..”  


Riolu’s ears twitched towards the argument, but a gentle rub from its new trainer sent it back to munching. It wasn’t an argument to get too caught up in.


End file.
